


Mother Dearest

by Mustang_Girl16



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Criminal Minds mentioned, F/M, Past Domestic Violence, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:29:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustang_Girl16/pseuds/Mustang_Girl16
Summary: For the first time in her life Natasha could say she had everything should could ever want and she was about to have the one thing she wanted most a relationship with Steve she could feel it, it was going to happen any day now and there was nothing to get in their way.Except maybe one thing: his mother. But she was dead...At least she had been.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 19
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Quick warning:  
> This fic contains discussions of domestic violence, graphic descriptions of death from TB and of course a crying Steve Rogers.  
> Reader discretion is advised.  
> Sarah and Joseph (mentioned not meeting he's dead like really dead) I kind of mixed what the Comics gave us and what the MCU gave us so I hope you all like that, I do, but the comics tend to be more time period accurate so I leaned more towards those.  
> Also please be patient with Sarah's speech I did a lot of research and it was a lot to consume so I know her dialogue may not be as Irish as it should, I just didn't want to mess it up trying to Google slang and information on accents and terms in the 1900s gets you very little information and mostly tourist guides so...thanks Google for nothing.

Rebuilding after S.H.I.E.L.D. had been hard, trying to do things the way she always had wasn’t working anymore. It wasn’t working anymore because she realized she didn’t want it to. She wanted more stability, more structure to her life than juggling all these lives and when she moved into the facility with Steve and the others, she finally got her chance to have that. For perhaps the first time in her life, Natasha had everything she wanted; stability, family, maybe even love? She and Steve had grown closer since their S.H.I.E.L.D. days. Living across the hall from each other had exposed things never previously seen by others like their own weaknesses and struggles.

Liho had started it really, scratching incessantly at her door one night to go out. Tony was doing an update of F.R.I.D.A.Y. that night so the door couldn’t automatically open like it normally would. She finally had had enough and had gotten up, opening the door for her. She stopped though, as Liho went right up to Steve, doing the same but looking at her with what Natasha thought was concern. She sighed not wanting Liho to be out here crying all night, so she manually opened it letting the cat in. Liho went right up to where Steve was seated on the floor shaking.

Apparently Liho had been leaving her room every night to go to Steve’s, sitting on his chest like a weighted blanket after he was woken from his nightmares. The same way Liho did with her. It had sparked a conversation between them, started habits between them too. For really bad episodes of his he’d often end up in her room still having the lines blurred between dreams and reality and she’d make room on the bed for him. Sometimes she’d go to him to, waking up unable to shake the ghosts from her vision and staying with him in his room was much better than hiding under a blanket.

They didn’t make a big deal out of it, didn’t mention it to anyone else, and to her own surprise she didn’t feel a need to make excuses for it either. Didn’t feel like it was wrong, it was strengthening their relationship giving them a space to open up about their pasts, their fears, their worries for the future. She was finding a place there with him and lately she was hoping to find a more permanent place there with him, a more romantic place. She wanted it to be natural though, not forced, not planned, in the moment, this feels right.

Natasha looked up to see her door open and Steve walk in, coming to all but plop down onto the plush white comforter she’d covered with a royal blue throw to help combat Liho’s shedding and tie it into the room. She’d never decorated her own room before. It wasn’t a necessity and therefore whatever went on her bed was affordable and provided comfort. That was it, however her room came painted as it stayed as. When they moved here, she decided to throw caution to the wind and chose to make the right wall where her bed sat an accent wall with floor to ceiling molded panels painted a slate grey, with a royal blue velvet headboard and a matching bench to shove Liho’s toys in. She’d been immensely proud of herself for it and even goaded Steve into doing it himself, his room though was much simpler, navy walls, white linens, and wood furnishings. It gave the room a sense of calm it had been lacking and Steve had even admitted it helped him settle into their new home.

“I’m surprised you’re still up, it’s late,” Steve said looking up to her and her paperwork.

“Thought you might want to talk, how’s he doing?” She knew he was having a video call with Bucky tonight; they’d started doing them at least once a week to help with his rehabilitation once Shuri managed to get the programing out of his head. She knew he still had a long way to go, but it was a good step forward.

Steve sighed shrugging, as Liho stretched slowly making her way up his chest.

“He’s doing well, he has goats now.”

“Goats?” Natasha asked moving her papers aside to settle on her elbow.

“Mmhm, four of them, Shuri thought it might be good for him to have something to do, something constructive and there’s a recently widowed woman who has land that needs tending to and a shepherds house on the property for him to stay in, so he’s been working there about two weeks now. He seems to like it, having responsibilities again and the goats seem to like him. He still meets with a doctor weekly and their sessions are okay, slow going, but he’s going so I guess that’s something.”

“Going is always the hardest part,” She replied, remembering her own struggles after defecting. It had been a mandatory part of her defection, S.H.I.E.L.D. wanting to make sure she was stable before really committing to hiring her.

“Yeah, I’m just glad he’s talking to me you know? He still has a lot of guilt over his past, over the issues it caused here, but no one can move on if they give up on it right?”

Ah yes, her and Steve having to tell Tony about his parents not so accidental death had been hard, but she knew it wasn’t nearly as hard for them as it had been for Tony. Then finding out it was Bucky was crushing for Steve; Howard had been their friend, and Bucky had technically murdered him and his wife. Tony reacted about as well as anyone would, it caused a lot of arguing between Steve and Tony, but through a lot of-and she really means a lot-talking and sit downs they were moving on. Steve admitted he should have put it together, and Tony admitted it was complicated, and they both agreed letting someone with HYDRA programing go to prison was a bad idea given everything that had just happened.

Thankfully, King T’Challa was probably the most forgiving man besides Steve she’d ever met and offered to help taking Bucky to Wakanda to be treated by their scientists. They’d even taken the team and gone down to visit and do some training with T’Challa and the Dora Milaje and Shuri had wanted to use Wanda’s abilities to truly test the stability of her own work since it was something she’d never done before. In the end, whatever Shuri and her team had done had worked, and Wanda wasn’t able to find any gaps in Bucky’s mind to cause him to lose control again. 

“So, I take it he still said no when you asked him to come live here then?” Since he was in the clear of any programming Shuri felt he could leave so long as he still sought counseling to deal with the trauma related to the programming, but so far Bucky seemed to want to stay in Wakanda.

“No, he’s still hesitant, doesn’t want to make more messes and make Tony uncomfortable since it’s his facility. I told him Tony said if he wanted to, he could, but Buck’s still hesitant, and I don’t think he’s mentally ready for it.”

“He’ll get there, they both will, the holidays are coming up, it might change some things.”

“Yeah, I guess I just was hoping he’d want out of there already, but he seems to really like it there and no one has any qualms about it either.”

“It’ll be fine, you over think too much sometimes, so don’t let this consume you.” Natasha said, curling up next to him.

_“I’m sorry to interrupt, but there is a detective and a uniformed officer from the NYPD at the front gate asking for Captain Rogers. I have already confirmed he is with the NYPD’s 72 nd Precinct in Brooklyn.”_

Natasha tilted her head up to Steve who seemed just as puzzled.

“Let him in,” Steve responded, getting up and she did the same, slipping on a pair of shoes.

They walked outside just in time for a squad car to pull up to the curb.

“Captain Rogers?” a man asked as he got out of the car. He was dressed in a simple suit and tie both a little rumpled, his salt and pepper hair neatly combed back except for a few stray strands. A younger woman about Natasha’s age dressed in uniform got out coming to join the man.

“Yes, and this is Natasha Romanoff,” Steve responded taking the Detectives outstretched hand.

“Captain, Ms. Romanoff, it’s a pleasure. My name is Detective Ray Porter, I’m from the NYPD, this is Officer Kelly O’Hara, I’m sorry for the late hour, but is there a place we can talk in private?”

Steve glanced to her and she nodded,

“Yes, um, come inside,”

They led the Detective and Officer inside to the common room, directing them to have a seat at the table while she went over to start some coffee. She had a feeling this would be a long night.

“What is this about?” Steve asked as she handed everyone a mug of coffee and took a seat beside him.

“Your parents, they’re buried in Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn yes?” Detective Porter asked, opening a notebook.

“Yes, why?” Steve confirmed, as he glanced to her in confusion.

“Well, I’m sorry to say this, but your parents grave was desecrated earlier this evening.”

She felt Steve stiffen next to her at the Detectives information.

“By whom?” Steve asked, his shock turning to sadness now. She didn’t even know where his parents were buried, so she highly doubted it was public information. It couldn’t be just a coincidence, not when it involved them.

“We have some theories, but Captain, it also appears that someone attempted to bury a woman alive in your mother’s coffin, do you know anything about this?”

“What?!” his voice was raised at that point and she was very close to asking them to leave.

“Are you insinuating Captain Rogers tried to murder someone?” Natasha asked, her tone conveying that he should watch himself very carefully. The way Steve looked at her then, told her he hadn’t picked up on it yet.

“We have to rule out all possibilities and considering his parents have an unmarked grave in the cemetery, it’s highly unlikely a random person would know where to look.”

“This is outrageous, I would never do that! And the fact that you would even insinuate I would do that to my mother’s grave!” Steve was angry now, she’d never seen him like this, but she knew his mother was a subject you didn’t mess with.

“Captain, your mother’s remains were removed, we currently have no idea where they are, and this woman well…she seems to think she _is_ your mother, even demanding to speak to you. Her medical findings show a laundry list of scars and signs of abuse and you were caught on security camera’s entering the cemetery earlier in the day.”

_Okay enough was enough,_

“That’s it! Steve don’t say anything else; we’re done here. Whatever other questions you have you can send to his lawyer, but you are not to speak to him again without council,” Natasha said, going over to one of the fridge in the kitchen and pulling off the card from the lawyer Tony kept on retainer for the Avengers, she handed it to Detective Porter.

“Very well then, we’ll be in touch,” Detective Porter stashed his notebook in his breast pocket and Natasha showed them out making sure they left the premises before going back inside to find Steve leaning on the kitchen counter with balled fists and a hung head.

“Look, I’m going to call the lawyer now, leave a message if he doesn’t answer,” Natasha said, grabbing her phone off the counter next to him, scrolling through her contacts.

“I didn’t do this…what were they even suggesting? And my Ma’s remains are just gone…” Steve’s voice broke and she put her phone down walking over and hugging him from behind.

“I know you didn’t, we’re going to figure this out I promise. We’ll find who did this and we’ll get your mother’s remains back. Everything will be alright.” She turned him around so she could hug him for real and try to calm him down.

The idea that someone would even suggest Steve was capable of brainwashing some poor woman…no this smelled like something more closely related to HYDRA.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Natasha and Steve looked up to see Sam coming down the stairs.

“Not really. The NYPD just accused Steve of desecrating his parent’s grave, removing his mother’s remains and burying a brainwashed woman alive. I need eyes and ears on this case, and as soon as I get off the phone with the lawyer, I’m calling the Chief myself.”

“I’m sorry what?” Sam’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. “What they think Steve’s one of those crazy kooks with mommy issues like on Criminal Minds? Oh, hell no, man, I’d know if I was living with one of those crazy motherfuckers, what do you need me to do?”

“For now, I need you all to do nothing until we talk with the lawyer. Just stay here. I want everyone under one roof, I don’t want this getting out of hand and having you all here, will make it harder for the press and the police to get to you. I don’t want to wake up Wanda or Vision yet, but I need Rhodes back here ASAP. Since you’re up can you please try and get ahold of him in D.C. and get him back here as soon as possible, while I try and get ahold of the lawyer?”

“Yeah, my phones upstairs, I’ll try and wake his ass up, you want me to call Tony too? God knows he’s a press magnet already.”

God and knowing him he’ll walk outside see press get bombarded and say something stupid.

“No, F.R.I.D.A.Y., wake Tony up and fill him in,” Natasha asked the A.I.

_“Waking now,”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded promptly.

“That works to, I’ll let you know when I get ahold of Rhodes.” Sam said jogging back upstairs.

“You think this will get out?” Steve asked, worrying his left hand.

“A woman found buried alive in a grave? Without a doubt, but hopefully they’ll have some semblance to keep your name out of it for now.”

_Who was she kidding? A woman brainwashed into thinking she was Captain America’s mother buried alive in his mother’s grave, was sooo getting out._

“Why me? Why my Ma? She never did anything in her life to deserve this!” He was crying now, and she pulled him over to sit down on the couch, rubbing his back.

“Because people are assholes, Steve, complete and total assholes, who refuse to let good people be good and rest when they’ve earned it. I’m going to call Mr. Keppler and we’re going to sort this out.” She kissed his head before picking up her phone and walking around to the island.

It rang almost all the way through before a sleepy Carl Keppler picked up.

“Hello?” Carl Keppler was an older man, in his early sixties whom they’d brought on after the whole ordeal with S.H.I.E.L.D. Pepper had taken great care in picking his law office to represent them, and much to her amazement he chose to keep representing them even after Sokovia.

“Mr. Keppler? It’s Natasha Romanoff, I’m sorry for the late hour, but we have a situation.”

“Oh god, not again, which country did you all drop this time?” He was apparently quite the grouch at one am.

“No, no world ending events,” She assured, waving it off.

“Oh, good, good, well what happened then?”

“The NYPD is investigating Steve for attempted murder, desecration of a grave and possibly tampering with a corpse.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end and she thought she might have lost connection.

“Steve? As in Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers?” Mr. Keppler asked in disbelief.

“That’s the one.”

“And what proof do they have?”

“Well, it was his mothers grave and the woman they suspect him of trying to kill also shows long term signs of abuse, possible Stockholm syndrome oh and she thinks she’s his mother. He also went to the cemetery earlier in the day so he’s screwed, isn’t he?”

“You gotta be kidding me right now…” Mr. Keppler groaned, and she could hear shifting of sheets in the background.

“I wish I was.”

“Okay, God, alright here’s what I need him to do. He stays at the compound you have security feed there, keep him indoors and away from people, and keep your people away from people. If you can, call back anyone not there right now. He isn’t to speak to anyone else without myself present and you both need to cancel any events or meetings you have planned. Was he formally charged with anything?”

“No, and I already gave the detective your information and told him he was to go through you.”

“Okay good, do you have the detectives name?”

“Yes, his name was Ray Porter, from the 72nd precinct in Brooklyn. There was also a uniform with him, her name was Kelly O’Hara, I didn’t get a badge number.” She should have asked for it, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. most likely had it.

“Okay, I’m going to hang up with you and start making some calls, see if we can’t gag the press and figure out what the hell is happening. Until then lay low and keep your mouths shut. I believe you have a rule about that?”

“Yes, number six, shut the fuck up.”

“Yeah, do that. I’ll be by when the suns up and will hopefully have more information.”

“Thank you, Mr. Keppler.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

With that Mr. Keppler hung up the phone just in time for Tony’s picture to flash on the screen.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a little sleepy, but did F.R.I.D.A.Y. just tell me Steve’s the number one suspect in a Criminal Minds episode, because I must say I always thought he’d make good money playing a homicidal maniac on TV.”

“No, Tony. He’s the suspect in a real attempted murder.”

“So, it’s based on a real psycho? He should really stick to fiction not Lifetime, those can really transfer onto the actor’s reputations.”

“Tony I’m being serious right now,” Natasha bit out.

“So am I Natasha! Because at this point, that’s the story we’re going to have to spin if this gets out to the press!” Tony hissed; his tone now serious. “I mean, really. The press is going to have a field day with this! “Steve Rogers, America’s Golden Boy, suspect in kidnapping and attempted murder of woman claiming to be his mother in Brooklyn!” This is the literal definition of worst possible situation Natasha!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that!” Natasha had to keep her voice down, but Steve could hear her, she knew he could. “Tony, I need you to just stay home, both of you, or better yet, you and Pepper come stay here until this gets under control. It’s better if we’re together they can’t ambush us that way.”

“Let me talk to Pep and we’ll be by in the morning. You called Carl, right?”

“Yes, he’ll be by in the morning and hopefully with information. Until then-”

“Shut the fuck up, will do.”

With that Natasha ended the call tossing her phone onto the counter.

“Okay, lawyer will be here in the morning, so will Tony and Pepper, until then why don’t you tell me about the visit to the Cemetery. I know you said you were going to Brooklyn today, but you didn’t say where or why.”

Natasha asked, sitting down next to him on the couch. Steve just shrugged,

“It’s the anniversary of my Ma’s passing, 80 years…I go every year, spend some time with her, just kind of fill her in on everything, place some flowers. Hell, it wouldn’t be unmarked much longer, I finally got the paperwork approved for a headstone, talked to the woman in charge of the site even, she put a flag out at the grave to mark it for when the stone arrives later this week. I was there maybe an hour, hour, and a half. There was nothing out of the ordinary, everything was intact when I got there and when I left. I mean the ground was a little sunken in, but that’s just what happens over time. I swear Nat, I have no idea what’s going on.”

She reached out taking his hand. This was bad, really bad, he left flowers with his DNA on them and ordered a headstone. _Great._

“Okay, we’re going to figure this out, in the meantime, you should get some rest.”

“You want me to sleep right now seriously?”

“I want you to try, okay, there’s nothing we can do until we meet with Mr. Keppler.” His shoulders sunk, but he seemed agreeable.

“Can we stay down here?”

_We._

She nodded giving in, preferring to be able to keep an eye on him anyways. She turned on the TV merely to provide some sort of noise other than their thoughts until morning. It wasn’t much, but it was something, she was just praying for a miracle at this point. They were going to need one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> So today sucks right? At least if you're American, anyone in the area of D.C. and Virginia please stay safe you are in my thoughts and my prayers because of this atrocity, I thought today would be a good day to update because if we're going to miserable we should have fresh fic to hide in.
> 
> My abuse warning starts in this chapter. It's more a reference to the cause of injury, but no less it starts here and will continue throughout the story.
> 
> Also we meet a new detective, I have a confession: I LOVE CSI. Especially CSI: NY with Gary Sinise who did the voice over in TWS at the Smithsonian. Basically he influenced this character because the entire time I wrote these lines for this new character I heard his voice.

Neither of them ended up closing their eyes, just stayed huddled together on the couch while they waited for the time to pass by before going upstairs to shower and change. She’d caught Sam on their way down and found out he’d filled in Wanda and Vision already and Rhodes should be here later this afternoon. Walking down to the common room, Pepper and Tony were making their way in with suitcases and Pepper with two trays of warm sticky buns from the bakery in town. No doubt a peace offering for Mr. Keppler and a pick-me-up for Steve since they were one of his guilty pleasures. _God that word sounded dirty and corrosive now._

“Hey, how is he? Did he get any sleep?” Pepper asked, setting the trays down and swatting Tony’s hand away when he went for one.

“He’s standing…he should be down in a minute, but Tony please, please, just write anything you want to joke about down and stick it away. He’s not in a good place right now.”

“I’ll keep it to myself I promise,” Tony held up his hands to show her he wasn’t crossing any fingers and she rolled her eyes.

“Hey…what’s uh, what’s going on? Tony did you blow up the kitchen again?” Natasha turned around to see Bruce coming down the stairs eyeing the suitcases.

“Shit we forgot Bruce.” Natasha muttered. Bruce frowned. “Not like that, it’s been a long night, short version, cops came, and Steve’s being investigated for attempted murder, so everyone is staying under one roof until this is resolved.”

Bruce gaped at them, then at Steve as he made his way downstairs.

“We forgot to tell Bruce, didn’t we?” Steve asked seeing the scientists shocked face.

“Yes! Anything else I miss? Life on Mars, pigs with wings?”

“No, though I wouldn’t be surprised about Life on Mars considering we fought aliens a few years ago.” Tony contemplated taking a seat on the couch.

“Oh god…okay, I need everyone to be on their best behavior I’m serious you all need to act like you’re the holiest little shits in the universe am I clear?” Natasha asked knowing full well this would only last a few minutes tops.

“I feel like that was directed towards me?” Tony asked and she nodded. “Understood.”

“Good,”

 _“Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Keppler has arrived shall I let him in?”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked and she nodded.

“Yes please,” she said going over to the coffee pot and making sure enough brewed before taking it over to the table as Pepper took the lid off the sticky buns.

“Oh, good to see almost everyone’s here.” Mr. Keppler commented as he entered the room.

“Mr. Keppler, please come in,” Natasha did her best to put on her hostess voice as Steve came over greeting the man.

“Captain, gotta say out of the lot you were the last one I thought would need me for murder charges.”

Awesome joking at eight in the morning.

“You and me both,” Steve said taking a seat.

“Guys, mind giving us a minute?” Natasha asked handing them one of the trays of sticky buns.

“Consider us lost.” Sam said, taking the tray.

“I’ll make sure they don’t tap any feed.” Pepper assured, giving her arm a squeeze before following everyone else out of the room.

“So, looks like we have a bit of a doozy on our hands. Since no official charges have been filed, I can’t file for a gag order and I can’t get any more information than what you have provided me. I did, however, get a call about an hour ago from Detective Porter who requested to meet with Captain Rogers regarding new findings in the case. I agreed, but it has to be done here, he’s bringing along someone from the crime lab and they should be here soon. Before then I want to make sure we understand you are under no obligation to answer any of their questions. You don’t want to answer, plead the fifth that’s what it’s there for. Don’t hesitate to direct any questions to me and look to me for guidance. I will stop them if they cross a line. Now it is your right to answer any of their questions if you choose to do so, but as your lawyer I am advising you as to what is in your best interest and right now that is not to answer anything.”

“Then why even agree to a meeting?” Steve asked, tired.

“Because they can always get a warrant and we want to avoid that, plus anything they ask you can give us insight into what is happening in the case. Now before they arrive, Natasha said you went to the cemetery, why?”

“It was the anniversary of my Ma’s passing; I always go and place some flowers. I met with a woman, Jane Fairfax, to sign paperwork to get a headstone placed finally and we both went out to the grave and she marked it for the stone’s placement after that she left, and I stay a while like I always do. I was there an hour, hour and a half tops.”

“Oh boy…”

“What?!” Steve asked getting frustrated.

“They’re trying to paint you as a psychopath, so knowing why you were there isn’t making this story any better coming from their point of view.”

She saw the rest of what little hope Steve had left leave his body.

“It’s going to be okay Steve,” she tried, but he just shook his head running his hands through his hair.

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

He was right, it didn’t feel like it, and it was killing her how little faith she actually had. She knew he had nothing to do with this, but it sure as hell seemed like he could.

 _“Detective Porter is here; shall I send him in?”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked and she nodded.

“Yes, thank you.”

_“Very well, then.”_

In a few minutes Detective Porter came in along with another man, this one about the same age as him, shorter, cleaner cut, former military and she instantly recognized him as Detective Taylor Riggs. He and Steve had worked on the Brooklyn Memorial wall last year.

“Detective Porter, I’m Carl Keppler, Captain Rogers’ attorney. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“Yes, I’d like you to meet Detective Taylor Riggs he heads our crime lab.” Detective Riggs shook his hand.

“Detective Riggs,” Steve greeted, and the man shook his hand sitting down.

“Captain, I’m sorry we’re meeting again under these circumstances.”

“You two know each other?” Mr. Keppler asked taking a seat on the other side of Steve.

“Captain Rogers and I worked on the Brooklyn Memorial together last year.” Detective Riggs provided taking a file folder out.

“I see, what is the nature of this visit?” Mr. Keppler asked getting straight to the point.

“We need to complete our questioning of Captain Rogers from earlier this morning and have some new questions as well.” Detective Porter responded pulling out a photo. “Captain do you recognize this woman?”

He slid the photo closer to Steve and without barely a glance, Steve slid it back, his face hardening.

“Is this a joke?”

“Why would you ask that?”

He laughed, dry and without humor and she could tell he was on edge.

“Why? Because that’s my mother, and I’d like to know where in the hell you got that photo.”

_Oh no._

“You’re saying this woman is your mother?” Detective Porter asked, knowing the answer already.

“Captain, I suggest you stay quiet now.” Mr. Keppler implored, but it seamed Steve’s ears were plugged to him.

“What is this?” Steve asked looking to Detective Riggs.

“This is the woman who came crawling out of your mothers grave.” Detective Porter responded, crossing his arms.

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now.”

“Steve stop talking!” Natasha hissed, then looked to the photo. She’d only seen the picture of his mother once. He only had that one picture and he kept it framed and out of the sun because it was so old, but damnit, it did look like her.

“No, I’ve had enough of this! Yes, I went to the cemetery, it was the day of her death, I go every year, I loved her very much, she gave everything she had raising me, but I’m not some delusional psychopath!”

_Oh god he was going to prison._

“Okay, I’m ending this, are you arresting my client?” Mr. Keppler asked standing up.

“We’re not done Mr. Keppler,” this time it was Detective Riggs who spoke up. “Captain, are you saying this woman looks similar to your mother or exactly?”

Mr. Keppler sat heavily back down in his chair knowing full well he’d lost control.

“Exactly, she even has the same scar across her cheek from-” Steve stopped himself then,

“From what?” Detective Riggs asked and Steve took a breath.

“Frow where my dad hit her with a broken bottle, I think I was about five when it happened. She touched her face and just got right back up…she always got back up.” He finally went quiet, but she wasn’t sure she liked the reason as to why.

“Your mother was a victim of domestic abuse?” Detective Porter asked, sitting up then.

“Yes, we both were, but we didn’t have a word for it back then.”

“How long did the abuse go on for?” Detective Porter asked intently taking notes now.

“Until I was eight, he had a heart attack coming home from a bar.”

 _What?_ She’d never heard any of this.

“Captain your file states your father died in World War I.” Porter pointed out and Steve shrugged.

“In a lot of ways, he did.”

“Captain if we give you a body chart can you please identify any injuries your mother might have sustained including any not inflicted by your father?”

“Are you trying to insinuate my client inflicted the same injuries onto this woman?” Mr. Keppler was losing his patience now and so was she.

“No, we’re trying to rule our own theory out actually. It appears the abuse injuries sustained to the Jane Doe are old, and completely healed. There are no acute injuries on her body. One doctor even agreeing that most of the fractures are over a decade old making it impossible for your client to have inflicted them. Which lines up with Captain Rogers’ story. Along with those anomalies one of her doctors noted she had strange fillings in her teeth that we’ve determined are mercury-based Silver Amalgam which was discontinued in the 1950s.” Detective Riggs responded.

Steve simply nodded unsure what was going on and neither was she.

“Then what is this?” Mr. Keppler asked,

Both detectives looked to each other before Detective Riggs opened the file he had.

“When we ran Jane Doe’s DNA through the system, we got a hit, a familial match to you.” He slid the results to Steve. “It would appear that according to her DNA she is your mother.”

“What?”

When she said she hoped for a miracle this isn’t what she meant. She thought finding other evidence, maybe the actual culprit, not this.

“I’m not finding this funny,” Steve responded to Detective Riggs

“Neither are we, obviously we have a lot of questions and that is why we need you to give us as much detail as possible.”

“I’m sorry are you suggesting that this is in fact his mother?” Natasha asked, in utter disbelief. This was almost worse.

“It’s something to consider…” Detective Riggs confirmed.

“I’m done, if you’re not arresting me then get out, my mother died 80 years ago.” Steve pushed back in his chair making it sound like it was scratching the floor all but storming out and upstairs.

“I need a drink.” Mr. Keppler mumbled rubbing his temples.

Natasha got up going upstairs to find Steve sitting in his room staring down at an old picture. She sat down next to him and recognized the picture of his mother. There was so much she wanted to ask him, why didn’t he tell her about the abuse? Why didn’t he tell her it was the day his mother died? Why doesn’t he talk about her ever?

“Why is this happening?” Steve asked meekly. She sighed laying her head on his shoulder, those questions could wait.

“I have no idea anymore. At least we know, neither do they.”

“I think I liked it better when they thought I was a psychopath.”

“Really?”

He nodded,

“At least I could explain that.”

“Steve, I know you don’t want to do this anymore, but for some reason there is a woman out there with your mother’s DNA, and we need to know how and why. Someone is hurting you both and for right now the only lead is her.”

She felt him sag against her and she wrapped her arms around him.

“I don’t know if I can do that Nat…”

“You don’t have to, I can go in and talk to her, you just do what they said, draw a map and I’ll take care of the rest.”

She thought this was a nightmare before, but she was starting to realize this, right here, this was the true nightmare, and it was only just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so shorter chapter, they get longer after this. I am back at work after the holiday so my goal is to update once a week but for every chapter I post to add a chapter so I won't be posting new until I have four and five finalized and finished for you all. That's my goal for this year work on better time management in that I make time for the things that make me happy and that's writing, but also making sure I'm not just posing things I don't have other chapters of done so here's hoping!
> 
> As always I enjoy comments even if they're just emojis and you can find me on Tumblr at gomustanggirl16


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains graphic depictions of death by tuberculosis as well as detailed discussions of domestic violence. Read discretion is advised.
> 
> So searching for a County Cork accent is apparently the equivalent of a needle in a haystack, I found one though and boy did I miss half of what he said because I couldn't understand it. I got most of it by the end of the interview. It actually sounded very Hollywood stereo type thick Irish accent and the guy I was listening to was from their football team and actually from the city Cork so here goes nothing.

Natasha sat next to Steve her hand never leaving his as he carefully marked the scars and injuries he could remember his mother sustaining. She was surprised by how much he could remember, but she supposed those kind of memories were always the ones that stuck.

“That’s what I remember, and some of what she told me from when she was a kid, but we didn’t have a lot of access to health care so I can’t be sure if some were true fractures or if they weren’t. She also had a birth mark on her upper right arm, it was about four centimeters, irregularly shaped like a patch. I do have a sample of her hair from a family bible it was cut when she was a kid, so I don’t know if that’d be a good source of DNA, but that’s all I have.”

“Thank you, Captain, but unfortunately if the tags not attached it won’t be able to provide the DNA we need, plus that would make it over a hundred years old. At most it could tell us about her diet.” Detective Riggs explained taking the body chart and pulling out a completed one. “From what I’m seeing a lot of these match, even the birth mark.”

The man sighed shaking his head.

“She died from TB, has this woman showed any signs of that?”

“No, and she had full body X-Rays at the hospital, and they didn’t show any signs of current or past infection.”

“There is one more thing that’s puzzling us, this woman has a very pronounced Irish accent.” Detective Porter added, closing his file.

“She was born and raised in County Cork, Ireland. Moved here shortly after she and my father got married. Used to get really thick when she was angry, or upset, that’s how you knew it was time to shut up.”

“Yeah, we picked up on that,” Detective Porter muttered.

“I think since we now all agree that Steve has done nothing wrong, it’s time you let us speak with her. If anyone can figure out if this is cloning or magic it’ll be us.”

“This is still under NYPD jurisdiction until we say so.” Detective Porter so helpfully reminded, but she wasn’t budging.

“I never said it wasn’t, what I’m saying is, I think it’s time we cooperate. Our technology is far more advanced than what the crime lab has.”

The two men shared another look, Detective Riggs shrugging, and she knew he was on their side.

“She’s not wrong.”

Detective Porter sighed resigning.

“Fine, you can speak to her, but not Rogers he stays here, as far as the NYPD is concerned he’s still a suspect. Let me call the hospital and let them know we’re coming.”

Detective Porter got up from his seat going over to the back patio to make his call. Detective Riggs looked to them leaning his arms on the table.

“I’m sorry about all of this, I know how much your mother meant to you, but we had to rule you out and with no other leads you are the number one suspect. That is until my lab matched her DNA to yours. I ran it again myself to make sure it was correct, and I got the same results. After that I realized this was something else entirely, missing remains, a woman with maternal DNA and memories…Captain I’m not sure what’s going on here, but we are focused on figuring out what happened to this woman.”

Natasha looked to Steve who nodded slowly before meeting Detective Riggs’ gaze.

“I know, that’s one of the reasons I admire you, you’re always on the victim’s side, no one else’s”

“We’ve got a problem,” Detective Porter said coming back to the table.

“What kind of problem?” Detective Riggs asked getting up.

“Jane Doe’s missing. The nurse checked in on her half an hour ago and when they went in just now, she was gone. They’re locking down the hospital and getting security footage now.”

_Of all the things that could make this worse it had to be this?_

“Where was the officer assigned to her room?” Natasha demanded knowing the protocol.

“She’s been there the entire time, but according to her, another patient became combative two rooms down and she was asked to help restrain the patient. Looked inside the window of the room and she said it didn’t look like she had moved, still curled up in the sheets, so she didn’t go in, but that was the only time she was away from the room.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Steve breathed getting up.

Detective Porters phone started ringing again and he picked up.

“Yeah, okay, got it, thanks. Okay, security footage shows she left the room alone, one of the hospital staff found her gown and bracelet in the residents lounge and one of the lockers had been trifled through, they think she might have changed clothes.”

This was insane but thinking back to Steve’s reaction when he woke up maybe she was related to him.

“Which hospital?” Natasha asked, getting up and grabbing her coat.

“NewYork-Presbyterian Brooklyn.” Detective Riggs responded.

Natasha moved grabbing her coat and Mr. Keppler’s, going up to Steve.

“Stay here, we’ll find her, and I’ll talk to her, in the meantime take this.” She slipped an ear wig from the stash she kept in her purse to him. “When I get there you can hear everything, deep breaths Steve, we’ll figure this out.”

“You coming?” Detective Porter asked coming back to the table.

“Yeah,” She leaned up kissing his cheek before heading out the door and down to the garage with Mr. Keppler on her heels.

“You understand they’re likely using both of you right now?” He reminded as they got into her car.

“And what is it you think we are doing exactly?” She replied the light going on in his eyes as speed out of the garage and towards Brooklyn.

They managed to get to Brooklyn in an hour, pulling off into the garage. She pulled the ear wig out of her bag putting into her ear and turning it on.

“Steve you there?”

_“Yeah, I’m here.”_

She looked up at Mr. Keppler as he balked at her.

“You understand if they find out-”

“You do know who you’re talking to right?” Natasha asked him getting out of the car just as she saw Detective Porter and Detective Riggs approaching.

“Alright, they found her. She’s agitated, but they were able to bring her back upstairs without sedation. However, she has been moved to a secure psychiatric floor because of the fear she might try and escape again, and they are better able to watch her from there.” Detective Porter informed as they walked to the garage’s elevator.

“Where was she?” Natasha asked, getting into the elevator with the others.

“The basement, trying to use an old pipe to break the lock on the old tunnel system. Most of the staff doesn’t even know the tunnels existed and they’ve been closed off to the outside and inside for over thirty years. They did just open them from the inside last year due to a gas leak coming from one of the pipelines that runs through the tunnels. That’s how one of the maintenance workers knew about it.” Detective Porter explained as they got off the elevator and moved to the interior ones, the detectives flashing their badges as they passed the front desk.

“Here’s the deal, Ms. Romanoff you may go in with me, but I will be running the interview. If you want to ask a question you write it down and defer it to me and I’ll determine if it can be asked. Detective Riggs will be using a phone connected to an ear wig that I will have, do you understand?”

It was taking her a lot not to knock him in his teeth, but she nodded.

“Understood,” She discreetly took out the wigs she brought herself, slipping one into Mr. Keppler’s hand as they got off the elevator.

The psych ward was pretty much what she thought it would look like. Lots of sealed doors, white walls, and security on high alert. After checking in they were instructed on what they could have on their person before making their way over to the room that was housing Jane Doe. The floor was broken up into security levels based on risk and Jane Doe was thankfully in the lowest level, still couldn’t have utensils or anything usable to hurt herself or anyone else, but not nearly as restrictive. They were directed into an observation room connected to hers, a large window making her visible to them.

The woman inside was pacing, still wearing the green scrubs she’d taken from resident’s lounge, feet clad in hospital socks and hair loose falling in thick sandy waves down her back. She wasn’t very tall, maybe just as tall as Natasha herself, her body slender almost too thin, her face was thin like the rest of her rounding a little at her chin, she had Steve’s nose or Steve had hers, with an extra spattering of freckles, those same blue eyes though hers were stormier and a bit sunken in. She was chewing her lip as she paced arms crossed over body, no doubt under a lot of stress. But the thing that struck her most of all about the woman now that she was seeing her in person, she was able to see just how young she was. If Natasha had to guess, the woman couldn’t be much older than forty.

“Can she see us?” Mr. Keppler asked, looking to Detective Porter.

“No, this is one-way glass, for her it’s tinted. Dr. Irving,” Detective Porter turned to greet a woman in her early 50’s with dark greying hair as she came up to meet them.

“Detective Porter, hi, I’m Dr. Sylvia Irving, I’m an attending for our Neurology and Psychiatry unit here at the hospital. I’ve been on the case since she was brought in last night.” Dr. Irving greeted her and Mr. Keppler.

“She came back here willingly?” Natasha asked looking back to the woman in her cell.

“Yes, but sadly she was right. She escaped because she didn’t want to be locked up in an asylum, but one of our nurses was able to calm her down and bring her up here without further incident. He explained to her that things were different today, but she would have to be put up here until we knew no one was going to harm her. To be honest I’m surprised it worked, she’s been very anxious and confused, but getting her to ask questions about the technology mostly the X-Ray and CT machines we sent her through kept her settled. At this point she’s come to terms with no one believing her or she even believing herself and thinks this must be a stroke from the ‘infection’ because the rest had to be insanity.”

This was getting worse, way worse.

“How is her mental stability?” Detective Riggs asked, and Dr. Irving shrugged.

“Distraught, traumatized, fearful, but not entirely unstable. It doesn’t help that she now believes she is insane. She does, however, show no signs of doubting her memories but is believing that what she is seeing isn’t real. Her scans show no signs of brain trauma, no reason for her to be hallucinating and even with certain mental conditions you would see the change in brain chemistry, and she isn’t displaying any of them. I honestly have no explanation and no real reason other than her believing she’s from the 1930s to keep her here.”

“I’d like to sit down and try and interview her again, with Ms. Romanoff,” Detective Porter asked, and Dr. Irving nodded.

“You can, but she wasn’t your biggest fan last time, so try and keep your face neutral and your inflection and reactions minimal otherwise she’ll close off again like she did the first time. The speaker will be on and if I feel as though she’s had enough, I’ll end the interview.”

“Very well.” Detective Porter agreed and Dr. Irving led them back out of the observation room and into the main hospital room.

“Sarah, Detective Porter and someone else are here to see you, they’d like to ask you some more questions.” Dr. Irving informed entering the room and allowing Natasha and Detective Porter in.

The woman stopped her pacing to look at them then looked at Dr. Irving, she nodded, and Dr. Irving handed her and Detective Porter folding chairs from outside the door.

“I’ll be right outside if you need anything, alright?” With that Dr. Irving left locking the door behind them.

“Why don’t you have a seat on the bed,” Detective Porter suggested to the woman as he and Natasha set their chairs down facing the bed.

The woman hesitated a moment before seating herself on the edge of the bed.

“I already told ya everything I remember.” The woman responded outright before Detective Porter could ask. Her accent thicker than she’s ever heard, her words all but running together.

“Ma’am this is Natasha Romanoff, she’s assisting with our investigation,” Detective Porter introduced, and she watched the woman carefully, her guard completely up now as her eyes scanned over her appearance. “In our last interview, you said you woke up buried in the coffin in the grave…”

“I don’t remember, how, I just remember being in it, it was already dug out, I wasn’t under anything.” She was obviously frustrated, keeping her hands folded in her lap, but Natasha could still see her shaking.

“Do you remember how you got in there?” Detective Porter asked and the woman shook her head, but Natasha could tell that wasn’t true. “Ma’am we need to know, was it the man you keep calling your son who put you in there?”

Natasha kept her face neutral, but she wanted to smack him, and it seemed the woman wanted to as well.

“Are ya implying ya think my son tried to kill me!” The woman balked, her eyes like daggers now.

“Ma’am-” Detective Porter tried but Natasha had had enough.

“Detective Porter I think it might be best if she and I spoke alone.” Natasha stopped him, trying to keep the interview on track. He glared at her, but he had no room to speak, he didn’t know how to ask questions and they weren’t going to get anywhere by asking the routine ones.

“I told you-”

“If you give me the room, I can assure you that your crime lab will be upgraded by March with the latest technology and will make sure you get all the recognition for it. And let’s face it you need all the good points you can get.” Natasha whispered with her back turned to the woman so she couldn’t see.

Natasha waited; brow raised in waiting for his answer before she saw his body relent then his approval.

“Fine, your room.”

She watched Detective Porter begrudgingly go to the door waiting for the light to leave. Once he was gone, Natasha took up her seat once more in front of the woman.

“I’m sorry about that, he can be a bit rough, can’t he?” Natasha apologized trying to gage the woman’s response.

“Ya work for him?” The woman asked seeming to calm a bit now that he was out of sight.

“No, actually I work for a private organization called The Avengers, we sort of specialize in anomalies like yourself.” Natasha watched her very closely and the woman just shook her head.

“So, ya work for an asylum then?”

“No, we are both science and technology advancements and consultants for government agencies and the public. And, for the record, in the United States Asylums-the ones you are thinking of-were shut down decades ago. We do have facilities like this, but they’re held to higher standards and what passed as appropriate for institutionalizing back then is much different now.” Natasha explained hoping to get her off the fear track her mind was taking.

“Then why are you here?” Natasha couldn’t help but notice the way she flipped back and forth her English taking on a more proper grammatical route when she was calm but getting sloppier when she was upset or angry.

“Because somehow, your DNA-has anyone explained what DNA is to you?” Natasha asked and she nodded.

“A wee bit, but it’s still confusing. They said it would help identify me despite me telling them my name.”

“Right, well, your DNA is made up of millions of genomes that at conception are split in half, one half coming from your mother and the other from your father to make up your DNA strands. They’re unique in every way and allow us to use it to find you or figure out who you are. You were not in the database that houses already collected DNA samples either from old cases or missing persons, or for government agents, but your sons was. It was through his DNA that a match was made to yours what we call Maternal DNA.”

The woman looked contemplative, rubbing her forehead.

“What are ya saying, deary?” She asked dropping her hand and looking at her.

“I’m saying I believe the science and I believe that you believe it. The science is telling me you are Sarah Rogers, but what it can’t tell me is how.”

The woman’s, or well Mrs. Rogers’, face fell, shock replacing the irritation.

“Mrs. Rogers-”

“Sarah,” Sarah corrected her, and she nodded.

“Sarah, I need to know a few more things, while the DNA doesn’t lie, there are things in this world that can skew it. Things that can twist it and make it something else, so I need to know what you know, what you remember and in as much detail as possible. No lying, no withholding, I don’t care how insane it makes you sound, but you need to tell me, otherwise I can’t help you, not properly anyways.”

She was pleading with her now, hoping she would give her something anything.

“I wasn’t buried alive…” Sarah finally got out, not meeting her gaze, her long hair falling out from behind her right ear as she bowed her head.

“Sarah what is the last thing you remember before waking up in the grave?”

Sarah chewed her lip again, and Natasha was picking up the tells now, she was anxious, afraid.

“You won’t believe me.”

“Trust me when I tell you, I’ve heard a lot, I’ve seen a lot, and this is probably going to be the most believable out of all of them.” Natasha reassured her.

“Dying, that’s the last thing I remember. I remember dying, at home, in my bed.”

“Good, take me back to that day, and again, give me as much detail as you can, don’t worry about sounding silly, or scaring me, no holding back.”

Sarah nodded, sitting up straighter.

“I had been sick for a long time, a few years at that point, tuberculosis. I got it here actually in this hospital, it looked a lot different back then.”

“Is that how you knew about the tunnels?”

“Aye, that’s how the staff was instructed to enter and exit the building. I worked full time at a garment factory not too far from here, but the new labor laws made it hard to get extra money and Steven, my son, he was 15 at the time and had already worked a few jobs himself here and there…I always expected he would pick up odd jobs as a lad for money, but he was trying to work full-time and drop school because we didn’t have the rent. He was a young boy, he should have been out with his friends, going on dates, naht worrying about our rent, so I picked up shifts here in the washrooms to clean the patients bed clothes. They don’t tell ya what is on them, ya know, and ya clean them, but they always brought the worst ones down immediately for cleaning, the bloody rags from surgery, the bed clothes from the TB ward. Sometimes they’d even have us go up ourselves and change the bedding. I had worked there a year before I started to get sick…I knew it was risky, but they were the only place hiring the undesirables and for odd hours at the time.”

“Undesirables?” Natasha asked, but she had a feeling.

“Immigrants and colored folk,” Sarah shrugged leaning back on her one hand now. “I was sick for two years, I could barely take a breath, my entire chest felt like a sandbag and every breath came with a cough, staining everything red and I hurt all over. I watched my son slowly become miserable and weighted down by the responsibilities of running a household. I never got to see his smile anymore, he always had to wear a mask when he came into my room. He thinks I didn’t know, but he would get up in the middle of the night and check on me and just watch and I knew he was counting my breaths just like I used to do when he was a wee babe and his breathing acted up. I never thought I’d be the burden, I knew it was expected, one day your children would be your caretaker, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Natasha felt her heart-breaking listening to Sarah talk, her ear wig stayed silent and she wished she could see how Steve was handling this. Sarah was only just holding it together.

“Tell me about the day you died.”

She let out a heavy breath,

“It was October, I don’t know the date, I just know the month, I slept a lot by then, too weak to do much else. The day before I had a good day, I felt a little better and I was able to stay awake and listen to the radio with Steven. He told me about art school, he’s a beautiful artist you know, draws very good funnies, and portraits. He didn’t want to go to school, but I told him he needed to apply because I didn’t waste the last 18 years, work my fingers to the bones for him naht to go to college, so he did, and he worked, was able to find a nurse to come and be with me a few times a week while he was out. He was so happy to see me feeling better, thrilled really, but if I’m being honest, he’d always been a bit naive. He thought this was a good sign, thought if I’d held on this long, I could beat it, but I knew. They always say: ‘beware the good day, for ‘morrow comes the end’…my nurse couldn’t make it the next day and Steven had a presentation, it was a big thing he showed me everything he had done for it and I knew if he missed it, he would fail so I convinced him to go anyway, told him I felt good, told him I was proud of him and sent him away. I’m naht sure how long he’d been gone for, but I remember leaning over my bed to vomit, most of it blood, every breath felt like nails, filling my lungs with blood. I had my rosery-my mother’s rosary-in my left hand and my handkerchief in my right, I said a prayer and let go…”

 _“She knew?”_ Natasha could hear Steve’s voice breaking on the com and felt her own heart crush, slight anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“Why would you send him away?”

Sarah gave a dry laugh wiping away her tears.

“You don’t have children do ya?” She asked her and Natasha shook her head. “I spent my entire adult life ensuring my son had everything he needed to be able to do what he wanted, be what he wanted…He spent two years taking care of me, feeding me, bathing me, clothing me, changing my soiled sheets…my boy had seen me in enough pain more than any child should see, he didn’t need to see me like that. I don’t regret it, not one bit, and I’d do it again if it meant he didn’t have to live with that memory for the rest of this life.”

Sarah was wiping furiously at her cheeks now, face red and tears streaming. Natasha wasn’t sure what to say, after that. Maybe she did have to be a mother to understand, but she would have given anything to say goodbye to her parents. That wasn’t the point of all this though.

“So, there was no one with you when you passed?” Natasha asked, her voice a little rough herself and she cleared it reigning herself in.

“No one was with me, I died alone, in my bed, in my home. The next thing I remember is the grave and running through the cemetery naked as the day I was born until I came up on that grounds keeper.” Sarah answered composing herself.

“Okay, a few more questions then, that scar on your right cheek how did you get it? How did you get all of these injuries?” Natasha handed her the doctors body chart with all the injuries found on Sarah’s body.

Sarah’s hesitation was back as she looked over the body chart.

“Remember I need the truth Sarah; did you have these before?”

Sarah nodded, looking at the chart.

“Yes, some I know I had before, but I didn’t know they were broken.”

“I need you to tell me all the ones you remember and how you got them, we need to know if they’re old injuries or new injuries.”

Sarah closed her eyes, sighing.

“Steven had been running in the house he was five at the time, he was going to wash his hands and he ran into his father causing him to drop his bottle of alcohol. It was prohibition still, he gaht angry and he had the bottle up to Steven’s face I was afraid he would hurt him, so I intervened, he swung and hit me in the face with the broken bottle.”

“Was your husband always violent towards you and your son?”

Sarah took a shuddering breath,

“You must understand, he was having a difficult time finding a job since he gaht hurt in the War…it was only when he drank. The man I married was a wonderful man, a kind man, but war it…it ruins kind men, that’s why we left Ireland, war was coming, and we wanted no part of it, but then the United States entered the World War and he got drafted and he got injured and no one would give him a job so he drank…and it made him angry it made it hard for him to understand things like children being excited or tones or intentions…”

“Sarah, was he the cause of your injuries?”

“Yes…I didn’t always go to the hospital for my injuries we couldn’t afford it, I only ever took Steven if he gaht to him. There was a nurse who lived a few apartments over from ours who would look at me instead, so I remember these area’s being injured, but I was never sure if they were broken or naht, only a few was I certain of.”

She looked over it again pointing to one on her left wrist,

“This one, Joseph usually grabbed my upper arm or my middle arm, this is from when I was a girl, I was working in a factory with my mother and my sister and I was the only one with small enough arms to reach under one of the machines and tighten a bolt. I didn’t move fast enough, and it fell onto my wrist breaking it. Still clicks and swells now and then. And here on my hand,” She turned her right hand over to show the burn scaring, “is from the fire in the factory when I was fourteen. I had gone outside to the jack when the factory exploded knocking me to the ground. When I came to, I couldn’t hear, still can’t out of my right ear and the building was in flames. I stumbled back to it and tried to use the door but burned my hand, a man from the store next door grabbed me hauling me away before I could get back inside. 125 women and girls died that day including my Mam and sister. They say, ‘luck of the Irish’ like it’s a good thing, but here’s the truth, we don’t have any luck, never have. We have blood and famine, and war. That’s the luck of the Irish.”

 _“It all tracks…”_ She heard Steve reply through the com and Natasha rubbed her hands down her thighs.

“Okay, I think I have everything I need for right now. Thank you,” She held out her hand and Sarah accepted it, before going to the door waiting for the light.

_“Everything she said was true, she’s never talked about it in that much detail before though, and never for that long…but it’s true. I found her laying in her bed vomit and blood on the floor her rosery in her left hand and her handkerchief in the other.”_

“You think this is her?” She whispered as Detective Porter, Detective Riggs and Mr. Keppler left the observation room with Dr. Irving.

_“Nat there’s no other way she would know all of that, she barely told me about it, she didn’t write, she couldn’t there’s no records anywhere of that except maybe my grandmother and aunts death certificates, but those have to be in Ireland. I just…god.”_

“Okay so what are we thinking here?” Detective Porter asked looking to them.

“I have no idea, but theoretically, cloning would only produce a lookalike of the thing being cloned not the memories and Sarah has been dead for eighty years. Now memories can be implanted through overly complex very unethical means, but you’d have to have the original persons memories already or use synthetic ones and I just can’t imagine how that could be done in this situation. As for her DNA matching Steve’s…the only time I’ve ever heard of a person having DNA that wasn’t theirs was through bone marrow transplants, but again she’s been dead for eighty years and that wouldn’t make her look like Sarah or have her memories. Everything that woman told me was the truth I couldn’t detect any lies from her, and even if she did have Sarah’s memories it doesn’t account for the injuries that have been healed for years leaving the only one other explanation…she really is Sarah Rogers.”

It sounded completely insane, but everything else just wasn’t possible. Then again, neither was someone coming back from the dead after eighty years.

“Okay let’s think rationally here for a second,” Detective Porter said pausing the insanity. “I want an expert on this, all of this I want all the theories ruled out. Her bones are still missing, you said bone marrow can change a person’s DNA, so what if someone took Sarah’s bones and put them in her right? I mean they can do that now, put other people’s bones in each other?”

“I’ve got nothing.” Detective Riggs said holding up his hands. “Dr. Irving?”

“Well, what you are referring to is called Allograft Bone transplant, it can be done using whole bones. The bones are completely rid of living cells, removing the bone marrow allows for zero chance of rejection. Used to the extent you are suggesting, however, is impossible, it would kill the patient and deprive them of marrow. Not to mention her body shows no signs of the procedure you are referring to, and it wouldn’t change her DNA. Her exams show no sign of reconstruction of her face. Not to mention the procedure at this extent would take years, it’s completely illogical. This isn’t even my field and I can tell you that. The only thing wrong with this woman is her mental state, and even then, I do not feel it’s at a state that would cause her harm or harm to others, therefore she would not require institutionalization if she were to agree to routine therapy sessions and examinations.”

“You really think she’s stable?” Mr. Keppler asked her, unsure.

“She seems to agree that there is a problem, and that it isn’t 1936 anymore. She isn’t displaying any violent behavior towards herself or others therefore she doesn’t fit the criteria to keep her here any longer than the 302 instructs. Just because someone believes they’re someone else doesn’t mean they can’t be let out into the world. And if she is saying she doesn’t feel someone hurt her, and physically her body is only displaying old injuries than I have to defer to the patient. This situation is highly unusual and beyond my understanding. Your DNA evidence and Ms. Romanoff’s confirmation of thing’s Captain Rogers’ has told her say she is Sarah Rogers, then medically there is nothing wrong with this woman and we have no cause to hold her.”

“So, Detective Porter, your victim states she wasn’t buried alive, she was laying in an open grave, and shows no signs of acute injury this seems more like a case of grave robbing and slip and fall than a case of attempted murder.” Natasha said turning to him. They had nothing more on him, no proof, barely even a case.

“Fine, fine, I relent, somehow this woman is Sarah Rogers, the case has changed, but it has not been closed. Someone still illegally opened up a grave and removed remains.” Detective Porter relented shaking his head. “As for Captain Rogers, I no longer believe he has anything to do with this, not based off Detective Riggs’ team’s evaluations and the lack of incriminating evidence.”

She could hear Steve audibly sigh in her ear and she was grateful one problem had been solved, but now they had a whole other problem on their hands.

“I conquer with Detective Porter; however, I do believe this is completely out of our parameters.” Detective Riggs seemed ready to hand this over in it’s entirety and she watched Detective Porter slowly give in.

“Fine, case is yours, but I want to be kept in the loop.”

“Well now that Captain Rogers is no longer a suspect and against all odds this woman appears to be his mother, I can release her into his custody but with the parameters she needs outpatient psychiatric care, at least three times a week to start for 45 minutes. But Captain Rogers will have to come here himself and pick up his mother.” Dr. Irving finalized and Natasha felt the last of the weight drop.

“I’ll call him, and Detective Riggs we’ll keep you informed.” She pointedly kept Detective Porter to the side, she’d make sure he was delt with later, but for now she needed to get Steve here and Sarah out of this hospital and back to the facility before they changed their minds.

She placed her phone to her ear, not bothering to try and call since Steve still had his ear wig.

“You hear all that?” She asked looking over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m on my way, Sam’s with me. Do you think Detective Porter will really let this go?”

“He doesn’t have much of a choice, the evidence is now painting you an unfortunate victim in this situation and regardless if she’s your mother or not, she can’t be left here Steve, it’ll break her, it would break anyone.” Even her.

“You sure this is a good idea?”

No, but it was better than everything else.

“It’ll be fine. I’m going to be here with her, do you want me to prepare her?” She wasn’t sure how Sarah would react to all this, to her son still being alive and youthful eighty years later.

_Probably as well as she was reacting to herself being alive._

“Yeah, but just try and keep it minimal I don’t want her getting overwhelmed and her finding out I let scientist use me as a guinea pig won’t go over well.”

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get here.”

Natasha hung up with him, before turning back around to see the Detectives had already left. Mr. Keppler walked up to her shaking his head.

“You know, I think I might have actually preferred another world ending event. Much more comprehendible.”

“Me to,” Natasha agreed looking back to Sarah’s room.

“Any theories?” She laughed shaking her head.

“None, and now I get to go explain to her how her ninety-seven-pound asthmatic son is now six-foot-two weighting 220 pounds and not a wrinkly barely alive old man.”

Mr. Keppler cringed at that.

“Good luck with that, let me know when you want me to come in and I’ll go over the more legal aspects with her.”

“Will do, Dr. Irving, if I can, I’d like to go in and explain to her what’s going on.” Natasha asked, and she nodded, going over to let her into the room.

When they entered Sarah was seated on her bed still. She turned her gaze from a blank stair at the wall to them.

“Hi Sarah, so, we’ve talked to Detectives and we all agree, there’s no reason to hold you here. We’re not sure how, but you are you and psychologically there’s no reason you can’t be released, however, you have still been through an ordeal and it is my professional opinion that you should continue to attend outpatient psychiatric evaluations at least once a week at our outpatient facility. This is the typical protocol for persons having gone through a traumatic event leading to in-patient treatment.”

Sarah’s expression turned worried at that, shaking her head.

“Dr. Irving, how much will that cost?”

_Money, right._

“Your stay here will cost you nothing, we’re still a non-profit and the hospital agrees your situation shouldn’t cost you anything and will not.”

“As for outpatient care, don’t worry, we will ensure it will be covered.” Natasha assured her.

“I can’t let you just pay for that, I’m sure I have a little money somewhere.”

“Sarah, it’s fine, I promise, in the meantime, there’s something else we need to discuss before you are released from our care.” Dr. Irving swayed sitting down on the bed beside her. “It’s about your son, Steven, you remember we told you what year it was.”

“Yes. 2016.” Sarah swallowed hard, “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“No, he is alive.” Natasha assured, but Sarah didn’t look confident.

“Then he’s an old man, like I should be. This still makes no sense; I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“I know, trust me, and what I’m about to say won’t make that any easier to comprehend, but your son isn’t an old man, he’s 35. He joined the military in 1943 and was chosen to be a part of a government operation, he was given a serum that made him stronger and more impervious to normal ailments. He became a hero; without him we wouldn’t have won the war.”

“He did what?” And there was the anger Steve mentioned. “You have the wrong man; my son wouldn’t do that.”

_Here we go._

“Well, he did and there was an incident during the war that made it so he survived to the 21st century, we believe that someone did this to you to mess with him. God knows there are plenty who would. Now as to whether they’re this devious is yet to be determined.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m sorry I’m not, he’s on his way here to pick you up. I have some things I can show you-”

“I don’t want to see them, he’s not an eejit!”

_Well alright then._

Natasha looked to Dr. Irving not sure what to say.

“Why don’t you give me some time with her, I’ll see if I can’t calm her down.” Dr. Irving suggested and she nodded, and Dr. Irving scanned her ID card letting Natasha out.

Natasha sat down in one of the chairs next to the door with Mr. Keppler and let her head hit the back of the wall. He tipped his bag of candies towards her and she took a few popping them into her mouth.

_What they hell did she just get herself into?_

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you think? I haven't written this much for a fic in a really (years) long time so it's been really fun just cracking this out and I hope to get as much done as possible before my vacation is over. I can't wait for you all to meet Sarah, I wish I had more to go off of from the comics there's not a whole lot so I hope you like my portrayal and I'll be back.
> 
> You can also find me at gomustanggirl16 on Tumblr


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